


Wrap Your Wings

by deanmcns



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of hell, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Wings, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanmcns/pseuds/deanmcns
Summary: This is a little one-shot inspired by the song Wings by Hurts. Just a good old fashioned hurt/comfort wing fic.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	Wrap Your Wings

Screams. They were the one thing Dean Winchester couldn’t sleep through. After years of torture at the hands of Alastair and years upon years of doling it out himself, he could never get rid of the screams. And still, they never stopped.

From Dean’s own corner of hell, the voices of the tortured echoed off the walls. God, Dean’s on a break. He wants to be done with the screams. At least for now. He knows, he knows by now, torturing others keeps him safe. He never wanted to be that person, the one who gave in to protect himself. But time moves differently here. Despite the layer of armor Dean wears, there was only so much he could take before he surrendered. 

He did what was asked, he survived. 

He’s done.

Dean Winchester has spent enough time in hell, enough time waiting to be saved, enough time thinking about his brother and if he’s even still alive topside. Dean’s getting out, if he has to do it himself.

\---

Time drags on and Dean still doesn’t have a plan. He’s frustrated and angry at himself for studying the lore as hard as Sam did. Maybe if he did, he would’ve been out by now.

Today, though, the demons are on edge. They won’t tell him why; they don’t like him. Dean could torture circles around them all.

But something is up. Even the Knights of Hell he sees roam occasionally have disappeared. Every so often, Dean swears he sees flashes of light from above, close to the entrance of hell. The screams are different when those lights appear. They’re the screams of demons, not the souls of the tortured. And for the first time, Dean has hope. He has hope, even though he knows hope can be a very dangerous thing.

The flashes of blue light come closer now. Close to Dean. His hope quite possibly makes him delirious, but Dean thinks the light is here for him. It doesn’t make sense to him. How could Dean Winchester possibly deserve to be saved? 

Suddenly, the light burns so bright, Dean can’t see; but he hears. He hears an ear piercing frequency, instincts telling him to run from it, to hide. Yet, something about it called to him. Almost like it was calling his name. 

A figure with raven wings stretched behind them produced the glowing blue light from its eyes. The figure, quite masculine in appearance, reached towards Dean, grabbing his shoulder. A searing pain followed the touch of the stranger. Logically, Dean knows it’s painful, he can almost smell the burning flesh, but he can’t help but feel comforted by it, like this figure would go to the ends of the Earth to save him. 

Dean trusted him immediately. He smiled. For the first time in so very long, Dean smiled.

The creature held him tight to their chest, hand still searing on his shoulder, other arm wrapped around his waist, keeping Dean close. 

Darkness closed in on him, massive black wings folded around Dean and the creature. It was warm inside the cocoon, a comfortable warm, not the burning warmth of hellfire. 

They took off together, protected from the demons and fire and torture. Here, with his face buried in feathers and body held tight, Dean Winchester was saved.

“Dean,” the creature spoke, voice like the burn of whiskey and ice cold rocks. 

His name. Tears sprang to his eyes. Dean had nearly forgotten. His name didn’t exist here, he was a number, a prisoner.

“Dean,” the voice more insistent now, matching the intensifying burn on his shoulder.

\---

Screams. This time, they’re Dean’s. Jolting upright, out of the sweat soaked sheets, Dean screams. It’s been a long time since he’s dreamt of hell, since Cas moved into his bed, it’s been quiet.

Cas.

Dean’s attention is brought to the hand on his shoulder. The familiar weight and comfort of it, grounding him, bringing him back to now.

“Dean,” Cas says again, eyes filled with more concern than someone should be capable of.

Dean reaches up and covers Castiel’s hand with his own.

“Cas,” Dean tries, his throat dry and tears still in his eyes.

Cas gathers Dean in his arms, just like he did when he dragged Dean out of hell.

“I was dreaming about when you pulled me from hell,” Dean manages, voice finally working.

Castiel tilts his head, “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I didn’t. Not until now, at least. You were pretty badass,” Dean smiles.

“I was. Not so much anymore,” Cas laments, regretfully.

“Nonsense, Cas. You’ve got the baddest ass I know,” Dean throws his signature wink before he’s playfully shoved by Cas, who’s rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be crass, Dean.”

Dean shrugs, “No matter what, Cas, you’ll always be my hero. You saved me, remember?”

“I’m afraid it’s the other way around. You saved me, Dean.”

“No, Cas. We saved each other.”

Castiel smiles.

Dean fidgets with his fingers, sneaking glances up at Cas.

“Something to ask, Dean?”

“You know me too well. Wings?” Dean asks sheepishly.

“Always.”

Cas moves to sit behind Dean, pulling him to lean back against his chest. With a shift in his shoulders and some static in the air, the raven wings Dean admired so many years ago appear behind Castiel. Cas adjusts himself and the appendages wrapping them around himself and his lover, the cocoon providing warmth and comfort for both of them.

With Castiel’s wings wrapped around his body, Dean falls asleep. This time, he dreams of life on the beach, toes in the sand and Cas by his side.


End file.
